Drabbles and Ramblings
by Indy393
Summary: Short fics with from every book in the "Leviathan" series. "Goliath" spoilers!
1. Political Gain

Marriage had become Volger's new favorite subject. Not marriage, however, to a certain Scottish airman (or was airwoman the proper term?), flying hundreds of miles away over the battlefields of France. No, it was a decidedly less romantic proposition that Volger had in mind.

"Your Aunt, Margarete Sophie, the Duchess of Württemberg, has three daughters about your age. Any one of them would be suitable," said the Count, pacing around the study of the English country house King George had prepared for them. Alek had been welcomed by the King as a fellow royal, and was being treated as a guest, under the King's protection.

"The Duchess of Württemberg has ignored me my entire life. Why are we talking about this now?" said Alek, sinking into a leather armchair.

"She will find you harder to ignore when you ascend the throne. And marrying one of her daughter will secure your claim to the throne."

"I think it's a bit early to be talking about my marriage. I just barely turned sixteen."

"_I_ think it's a bit early, and more than a little foolish, to consider making a cross-dressing, Darwinist _commoner_ your empress. Would you agree, your Serene Highness?"

Alek didn't say anything. Of course Volger realized that Alek had become involved with Deryn. He had been foolish to try and hide it.

"You are blushing beet red, your highness. Quite unbecoming."


	2. Quite Convenient

Women had always bored Volger. They seemed incapable of rational though, and interested only in rich husbands.

But this fabricator, this _Doctor _Barlow, was quite different. She was shrewd, had intelligence in spades, and had been a most valuable companion. Over the past month, when their respective protégées had disappeared from the ship, he had spent hours of each day with her.

Of course, Volger knew that a war and clashing cultures separated them. That knowledge helped him to quiet his affections. His duty was to help Aleksander claim his inheritance, and to advise him when he ruled Austria. Romance, especially with an unashamed Darwinist, was out of the question.

Despite this, Volger's heart sped up just a little whenever she entered a room. He could even tolerate the presence of _Mr._ Sharp, and that horrid dog, who she always had following in her wake.

Someone knocked on his door, jolting him from his thoughts. It was only that girl—child midshipman, playing at being a man. Unfortunately, _Mr._ Sharp was his problem. He had to keep Aleksander from learning her secret. Otherwise he'd have another Franz on his hands.

Mr. Sharp looked especially sour as she delivered the Count his lunch.

"Why so sour, _Mr._ Sharp?" asked Volger, in his best mocking tone.

The airman frowned. "It's that daft lady—boffin. She always has a list of barking unpleasant things for me to do."

"Walking the thylacine, are we?"

"Walking Tazza is better than being used as her barking assistant," said the girl. "Oh, Mr. Sharp, I'm afraid I've injured my wrist. I need you to write letters for me," she said, mimicking the Doctor's voice.

Volger was silent.

"I did not join the air service to write letters to a boffin's barking _husband_." Said the girl, more to herself than to Volger.

The Count started, but didn't say anything. The girl noticed nothing, and after a grudgingly—given bow, she left.

It took Volger only a moment to remove the Doctor from his mind. A husband was quite convenient.

* * *

><p>Leviathan Series (c) Scott Westerfeld.<p>

Here's the second chapter! I'm not a Varlow shipper (in case you can't tell from the story), although I do like the idea of Volger pining just a _tiny_ bit. Anyway, thank you for the reviews! I'll update whenever I get a chance.


	3. Prospecting

"I found another one!" called Deryn, lifting a solid gold bar out of the melting snow.

"That's six of them!" replied Alek, watching Deryn carry the bar singlehandedly over to the sledge where the five others were stacked.

"Blisters, Alek, how many did you throw out?"

"Only seven. We saved one."

"Only _one_? Barking spiders, you couldn't have thought to chuck something else?"

"We didn't bring anything else nearly as heavy. But, by all means, enlighten me as to what we should have _chucked_."

"You could have started with the Count. He's dead useless," said Deryn, making sure Volger, who was sitting on the sledge, wrapped up in a fur coat, could hear her. Volger frowned and turned away, and Alek could barely contain a laugh.

"But really, you kept _fencing_ equipment over all of this?"

* * *

><p>I always wondered why Volger and Alek decided to save only one gold bar, instead of throwing out all of those antique fencing sabers. I figure Deryn would have trouble coming to terms with it, too. I mean, eight gold bars is A LOT of money, by both today's standards, and those of 1914.<p>

Charcters (c) Scott Westerfeld


	4. Waking Up

The last thing Deryn could remember was jumping from a burning, dying _Leviathan_, and being pulled under dark water.

Even now, as she slowly woke up, all she could hear were the explosions and the moaning of the dying beasties. All she could see was a sinking zeppelin, and the broken chords of her parachute. All she could feel was the cold of the English Channel hitting her full force.

_Barking Spiders_

She was in a hospital bed. Nurses in starched white caps scurried about, tending to the few other patients in the ward. A ward where all the patients, as far as she could tell, were women.

So, the Air Service had finally grown a brain and realized she was a girl. Blisters.

She had to get up. She had to find… Newkirk. Finding Newkirk seemed like the best idea at the moment. She tried to lift herself out of bed, but searing pain all over her body made her collapse back onto her soft white sheets.

"Deryn!" cried a voice, soft and hopeful. She tried to focus on the speaker.

Alek. At least, Deryn thought it was Alek. He was a bit taller. He was wearing a crisp suit. And his red—brown hair was a bit longer; perfect length for running her fingers through.

Oh yes, this was definitely Alek.

And now Alek was leaning over her, and Deryn could see the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Alek?" she whispered feebly. It was all she could manage.

"Yes, it's me, _schatzen_, it's me," he whispered, tears welling you in his eyes.

"What… How did I get here? Or have I died?"

"You saved the crew of the _Leviathan._ Almost singlehandedly, of course."

"My attic's still a bit scrambled Alek. I asked 'what happened' because I don't really remember."

"Well, what do you remember?" he asked, taking hold of her hand.

"I remember the _Leviathan_ dying. Me falling. And then hitting something hard and cold. I… think it might have been the Channel."

Even that short speech had taken almost three minutes, so frequent were her pauses.

"Well, you were saved, thanks be to God," said Alek, "God and Newkirk."

"Newkirk?"

"Yes, I believe you two are even now."

"Not likely. I saved that bum—rag more times than he cares to remember."

Alek laughed a little bit at this.

"Well, _I_ owe him a great amount now."

"You owe me more."

"I owe you more than even you realize."

Deryn blushed a bit, but only a little bit. She had a feeling her blood was in short supply at the moment.

"So how long have I been here? Wherever 'here' is?"

"The South London Women's Hospital. And you've been here for four days."

"Barking spiders!" Deryn cried, which attracted the attention of a nurse, who glided over to Deryn's bed, her white robes billowing behind her.

"I see your painkillers have worn off, Miss Sharp. Perhaps it is time for another injection?" asked the nurse, placing a kind, cold hand on Deryn's forehead.

"I don't need painkillers. I'm f-" but Deryn had made the mistake of moving more than her mouth. She cried out in pain.

"I'll be right back," returned the nurse, who turned and walked away briskly.

"I don't need any barking pain killers!" shouted Deryn, even as she let own a low groan.

"You really should take the painkillers. They'll at least help you sleep. You've got burns, a concussion, a broken arm…"

"Oh, so _that's_ why my arm is in a cast."

"I think that is the most probable cause."

"So… I guess they all know now?"

Alek looked at her sadly.

"Yes. Captain Hobbes was quite surprised, I believe. You did, after all, save his life."

"But they'll never let me back in," she said sadly.

Alek shook his head, and the nurse returned. She asked Deryn about what exactly hurt (Alek was asked to leave the room at this point), and then mercifully injected her with morphine.

Alek returned, and took his seat by her bed.

"Talk to me while I drift off, please," pleaded Deryn. "Otherwise all I hear are explosions."

"Of course. Newkirk sends his best wishes."

"Does he now? And how did he take the news?"

"Well, he was the first one to find out, actually. He tried to perform CPR on the lifeboat. He was rather shocked to find out that the midshipman he was giving mouth-to-mouth to was, in fact, a girl."

"Wait, _Newkirk_ gave me mouth to mouth? Who knows what sort of clart he's put is mouth to?"

"I was under the impression that you would prefer this more," said Alek, before he softly planted a kiss on Deryn's numbing lips.

Deryn was drifting off, so she wasn't quite sure if she had dreamed that kiss or not. Dream or reality, she didn't mid.

"I suppose now would be a good time to mention that your mother's on her way down from Glasgow."

"What, someone barking told her?" Deryn cried, temporarily jolted back to reality, sitting upright, then collapsing again. Alek held her hand until she'd calmed down.

"I…can't handle… her… right now," she said, beginning to succumb to the drug.

"_You_ focus on getting better. _I'll_ handle your mother," whispered Alek into her ear, then kissing her forehead.

Deryn smiled faintly, then closed her eyes, fully expecting that, once she woke up, she'd see Alek in a hospital bed.

* * *

><p><strong>This takes place sometime after the events of <em>Goliath<em>, I guess. As much as I'd like the alternative verison of WWI to wrap up quickly with _Goliath_, I'm not sure it will. Anyway, Deryn's secret is revealed to the wider world as she saves the crew. I'm sorry I had to sacrifice the _Leviathan, _but that's war for you. **

**The South London Women's Hospital was a real place. All of its staff were women, which is especially cool, because it opened in 1912, when most hospitals still retained sexist attitudes and didn't employ women at all. It closed down in the 1980s, but, from what I can find, it was a pretty cool place. **

**I won't be updating as much over the next few weeks, but I'll try and put up a few more stories before I take a brief hiatus. As always, thank you for the reviews! **


	5. Vexing Volger

Volger got out his taxi in front of a comfortable country house outside of Glasgow, opening his umbrella against the threatening clouds. English weather was really quite revolting.

He began walking through the large front garden, passing under a large oak tree.

"Who goes there?" cried a voice above him.

Perched in the tree was a girl. A girl wearing her mother's old Air Service dress cap, and peering through her father's binoculars. Her father's _good_ binoculars. Swiss—made and worth a small fortune.

"It is I, Count Volger," he sighed, going to lift the girl down from her perch.

The girl, however, refused his help, jumped down by herself, and landed perfectly on her feet, as if she jumped from trees hundreds of times before. She was wielding a wooden sword, and soon had it pointed at Volger.

"And what business do ye have here?" she demanded, her green eyes sparkling. Volger could see that she had cuts, bumps, and bruises all over her body, not to mention a torn skirt caked with mud.

And her stance was atrocious.

"Blair! Are you harassing Count Volger?" called the girl's father from the doorway. He strode down the path, shook hand vigorously with Volger, and then lifted his young daughter up into his arms.

"I was standing watch," said Blair smiling.

"Watch or not, there's no need to put a sword to his chest."

"It's only a toy."

"Yes, but some people find it rather offensive. Please apologize," said Alek, setting Blair down.

"I'm sorry I… offended you with my sword," said Blair, looking at Count Volger.

"Thank you for the apology, you highness."

Blair bristled at the title.

"But I don't want to be a princess."

"No one ever asked you to be one, _mauschen_. Why don't you go in and wash up for dinner, though?" asked Alek, directing his daughter towards the house.

Volger waited until the girl was indoors, and after Alek had insisted on carrying his suitcase to the house, that he spoke.

"She becomes more and more like her mother each time I visit," he said acidly.

"I know," Alek smiled "Isn't it brilliant?"


	6. Run a Mile

The _Leviathan_ was cruising over the waters of the eastern Mediterranean. In less than a week, the ship would be docked in England. Deryn would get some much—needed leave. And Alek… well, Deryn didn't know what would happen to Alek.

They were sitting in the engine pod. Alek was fixing a part on the Clanker engines, while Mr. Hirst looked on. Deryn was leaning up against the metal wall of the pod, attempting to sketch some of the smaller, more detailed engine parts, but really capturing the various expressions on Alek's grease—streaked face as he worked on the machine.

"Barking spiders," she muttered to herself. She was getting a bit ridiculous. She was _not_ an air—headed lass who was mooning over some boy. She was an _airman_, even if she was a girl.

Ever since she'd told Alek her secret, their friendship had been better than ever. Frankly, she had expected Alek to stop talking to her, at the very least. After the initial shock, he had accepted her, and was grateful that she had trusted him. He had even gotten Count Volger to stop blackmailing her. And she loved him all the more for it.

A bell rang somewhere, calling Deryn back to reality, and Mr. Hirst to the mess hall.

"I trust, Mr. Sharp, that you will keep an eye on his highness?" asked Hirst.

"Of course, sir," she replied, standing up and saluting.

The engineer left the two alone. As soon as he walked out of the door, Deryn caught Alek's eye. He held it for a second, then turned away, blushing.

"So, what's wrong with your engine, your archdukeness?"

"Just a stuck gear," said Alek, tweaking something inside the machine. Pulling his hand out, he adjusted some levers, and the engine purred back to life.

"Brilliant. Although, I would have thought you'd want to slow down the repairs as much as possible. Do you know what they'll do with you once we reach England?"

"I believe Volger and Dr. Barlow are still negotiating that," he replied, coming over a taking a seat next to Deryn. He still, however, refused to meet her eyes.

"You could parachute out now. We're only about ten miles off the coast of Istanbul. You could find your anarchist lass Lillit," joked Deryn.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something somewhat related to that."

"About Lillit? Because she _knew_ when she gave me that kiss."

"No, I mean… Do you remember what I said? That if I ever _liked_, or loved, a common girl, I'd have to-"

"Run a mile," said Bovril, who had been curled up in Deryn lap.

"Aye. Run a mile," repeated Deryn, realization dawning on her face.

_Blisters. Alek loves me; and because of me, he's going to barking leave_.

"Deryn, I… I can't tell you just how much you mean to me," said Alek. He was trying to keep his voice formal, but he trembled as he said the words.

"But it's because you mean so much to me, _too_ much, that I…" But he couldn't continue. Deryn waited in silence as Alek composed himself.

"Deryn, I love you," he said very quickly "And this sounds so clichéd, but it's because I love you that-"

"That you have to leave," said Deryn, tears welling in her eyes. Tears which she angrily brushed away.

"Yes," said Alek quietly. "Please know that is the last thing I want to do, but I don't have a choice."

He reached out, took both of her hands, and squeezed them.

"So, I'm guessing you'll go back to calling me Mr. Sharp until you escape? And you want to avoid situations like this?"

"Yes, Deryn. I'm so sorry. I was hoping that, maybe, if you didn't feel the same way I did, I could stay. But there was another part of me that wanted more than anything for you to feel the same way about me."

"Now you know what I've been feeling for the past few months," said Deryn, trying to laugh.

Alek smiled, and gently wiped some of Deryn's tears away. His face was so close…

And before Deryn knew it, she was kissing him. And he was kissing her. They pulled apart quickly.

"This idea you have? About leaving? It's a bad idea," she whispered.

"A _very_ bad idea," whispered Alek in her ear. "Just like this."

And he kissed her again.

"What am I going to tell Volger?" Alek asked.

"Tell him to stuff it, and if he doesn't, you can tell him we know about his unrequited love for Dr. Barlow."

"You caught him mooning over her again?"

"Aye. And it's something I never hope to see again."

Alek didn't press Deryn, but contented himself with several more kisses.

Bovril, meanwhile, was curled up in a corner of the pod, purring and watching the objects of his nascent fixation.

* * *

><p><strong>Pure fluff, yes, but fun to write, especially because I have such a hard time with romantic scenes. Thank you for the reviews, and please write some more!<strong>


	7. Just Like Sisi

"She reminds me of Sisi," remarked Countess Hadik, strolling through the gardens of the Hofburg Palace with the young, and newly married, Emperor. They were an odd couple. She was the oldest woman at the Viennese court, and had been serving the Hapsburgs since she was sixteen. The new Emperor had hardly even been to Vienna before he'd assumed the throne four years ago.

"In what way?" asked Emperor Aleksandar, his green eyes suddenly alive with worry.

"When Empress Elisabeth married your grand-uncle, she was sixteen. She was so young, so alive, if not a bit shy, and so hopeful. Just like your Empress."

"Deryn is almost ten years older than Sisi was. She knows what she's gotten herself into."

"She may _know_, but it doesn't mean she's _prepared_. Forgive me, your majesty, but I've already seen one Empress lose herself to this court. I do not wish to see another."

The Emperor walked along in silence, no doubt thinking about the late Franz Josef's wife. The Viennese Court, with its strict etiquette and tradition, as well as a husband whose love had quickly evaporated, had left Elisabeth a shell of what she had been. Countess Hadik could remember it all too well. Elisabeth had succumbed to eating disorders and depression. She preferred to be anywhere but Vienna. She was eventually murdered by an anarchist in Geneva.

The countess admitted that Empress Deryn had one advantage that Empress Elisabeth did not. Emperor Aleksandar was obviously very much in love. Not like Franz Josef. His love had been a short infatuation.

"She seems to be doing fine," said the Emperor, after a long silence.

"For now, yes. But as soon as the first few weeks are over, the Court will go back to the status quo. She will be disliked because she is a Darwinist, and a commoner. Every move she makes will be scrutinized, even more than now. Her life will no longer be her own."

"Unless I change some of these traditions."

"That's something Franz Josef wasn't willing to do."

"All the more reason to do it, then."

"Court _and _Constitutional reforms? You are quite daring, your majesty."

"Thank you, Countess. Your advice has been invaluable."

The aging Countess nodded, knowing she was dismissed. She curtsied, and returned to the palace. She had never questioned the actions of her emperor, and she was too old to start now.

* * *

><p><strong>I could have added "overbearing, smothering mother-in-law" to the list of Elisabeth's woes. Poor Sisi, having to put up with what she did. Her murder is probably the one example of where a corset can actually be useful, though. You can look up the story, if you want. If I tried to explain it here, I would go full on European History Geek mode, and end up adding several pages to this fic. <strong>

**Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! I love feedback, good or bad, so please keep them coming!**


	8. Alek's Adventures in Food

**Take 1: Istanbul**

"And this is called what?" asked Alek, skeptically poking at a goopy substance.

"Yogurt," said Lilit tersely, liberally sprinkling raisins in the white substance.

Alek took a hesitant bite. The yogurt was slimy, and felt odd going down his throat. It wasn't unpleasant, but certainly not the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Not wishing to comment on Lilit's cooking, (she was ready to kill him), he ate the rest without complaint.

**Take 2: Somewhere Over Asia**

"God's wounds, what is this?" cried Alek, nearly losing what little he had in his stomach.

"Middy food. And you wonder why I steal bacon off of _your_ breakfast tray," said Dylan dryly, swallowing what _looked_ like a piece of sausage.

"Serves me right for missing my breakfast," said Alek, eyeing a piece of bread that had suspicious-looking white film along the edges.

"Just cut the edges off, and you'll be fine," said Dylan with his mouth full.

Alek sighed. He may have envied Dylan's freedom, but he certainly didn't envy his diet.

**Take 3: Japan**

Alek eyed his plate suspiciously. When the waiter, in broken English, had described Sushi, Alek had liked the sound of it. Fish wrapped up with vegetables. What could possibly go wrong?

He looked over at Deryn, slurping her noodles, and using chopsticks expertly, too hungry to tease him for not being 'adventurous'.

Adventurous or not, he had expected the dish to be a bit more… cooked.

**Take 4: Los Angeles**

American food was said to be a mix of all the cultures that made up the huge country, but Alek had never heard of _peanut butter_ before.

But man, was it good. He had bought a jar in a Los Angeles store, and had been stealing spoonfuls of the stuff since they had taken off.

Deryn let herself into his cabin, not even bothering to knock (although Alek wasn't complaining), carrying four pieces of fresh bread.

"I nicked these from the kitchen. Let's make sandwiches before someone notices," she smiled, handing him two of the slices.

**Take 5: Mexico City**

Alek took a large bite of the dish in front of him, the leaf encasing the doughy shell becoming soggy in his mouth.

"No, sir, you unwrap the tamale before you eat it," said their guide.

Across the table, Deryn, sitting next to Dr. Barlow, sniggered. Frowning, Alek unwrapped his tamale, and took another bite.

Spicy, with several different kinds of chili peppers. Not too bad.

**Take 6: New York City**

"So, it's a sausage wrapped in bread?" asked Deryn, eyeing the street vendor.

"I guess. I wonder if they're any good?" replied Alek.

"Well, half the people here seem to be eating them," said Deryn, gesturing at the mass of people teeming around them, many of whom were eating the 'hot dogs' as they walked. Deryn and Alek looked at each other, and walked up to the vendor.

"It's not as good as the sausages at home."

**Take 7: Glasgow**

After sushi, moldy middy food, sub-standard sausages, spicy tamales, yogurt, and countless other dishes, Alek thought he could handle anything.

Anything, of course, except his mother-in-law's haggis.

* * *

><p><strong>I have no idea where this came from. It started out as a drabble about Alek eating sushi, and became a story about Alek's diet in various places around the world. Please review!<strong>


	9. Shuffle!

_**I'm Sticking With You**_**- The Velvet Underground**

"So, you're finally leaving?" asked Deryn, looking at the heir to the Austrian Empire, who didn't say anything.

"Well, we've had some good times," she said, fighting back tears. "Like when we took down that Tesla Cannon, or were chased through Istanbul in a beetle. Brilliant stuff."

Alek still didn't say anything.

"Well, um, I'll miss you. A lot. The kisses we snuck in the storerooms, the scheming, the treason, the-"

But she was cut off by Alek's sudden, deep kiss.

"Damn the empire. I'm staying right here with you."

_**Strawberry Fields Forever**_** – The Beatles**

This is where Deryn felt the most at peace. Here, under the deep, inky black of the night sky, alone on watch. It was like a dream. A perfect dream.

But there was always doubt. That nagging, crippling doubt, fear really, that someone would find out who she really was. And then it would all end. Her time aboard the ship would be erased. No one would find it on the record books, and no one would ever believe her.

Like it never even happened.

_**Diva's Lament (What Happened to My Part?)**_** From Monty Python's 'Spamalot'**

"Aren't you concerned about what happened to me while you were running amok in Istanbul?" asked Volger.

"Oh, what was that Count?" asked Alek. He had been spending an increased amount of time with his head in the clouds since his return.

"Istanbul? Did I tell you how Dylan took down the engineer on _The Orient Express_? Or how he came up with using spices as weapons? Or…"

Volger sighed. Why wasn't _anyone_ concerned about what he did?

_**Coquet Coquette**_** -Of Montreal**

Deryn was driving him crazy. One minute, she was kissing him in secret in the engine pod, and the next, she was refusing to even call him "Alek". Something about her being common and him being a barking archduke who would break her heart.

Women could be quite mad, sometimes.

_**The Times They Are A-Changin'**_**- Bob Dylan**

"A girl can do everything a boy can. And _this_ girl can do much more than you, you barking useless _archduke_!"

"But, but you can't…"

"I can do anything I want! And if you can't handle that, then get the heck off my ship!"

_**Mazurka in F Major, Opus 68,3 –Chopin**_

It would all be fine. As long as he, the Archduke of Austria—Hungary, could dance the final dance of the night, the mazurka, with the woman he intended to make his Archduchess, he could put up with any simpering, vain princess.

He found Deryn long before the mazurka started, at least three dances before. She had been standing along the wall, talking to some of the younger, lower-ranking courtiers.

"Can I tear you away to dance the mazurka?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes, you may," said Deryn, returning his smile. The courtiers backed away.

It was rather odd. Of all the dances he had taught Deryn, she seemed to excel at the mazurka. Of course, they waltzed rather beautifully together, but protocol dictated that such an intimate dance could not take place between an archduke and a commoner. A mazurka, however, was perfect. And as they spun around, Alek wondered when he'd finally be able to ask her to waltz.

_**Kaiser Walzer, Op. 437**_**- Johann Strauss**

Damn protocol. Damn court etiquette. Alek didn't want to waltz with the smothering Princess of Bavaria again. He wanted to waltz with his fiancée.

As he offered Deryn her hand, she was obviously surprised, but clearly pleased. After all, they only waltzed in private.

Alek and Deryn could feel the shock of the court emanating from everyone in the ballroom. But, then again, shocking people was what they did best.

* * *

><p><strong>So I saw a bunch of these Shuffle Games up, so I decided to give it a shot. I <em>may<em> have added the last song on purpose. After I wrote the story for the mazurka, I just couldn't resist. **

**Also, is anyone else not able to find the new _Goliath_ art reveal? **


	10. Twelfth Night

"Is this really necessary?" asks Deryn, eyeing the two tickets in Alek's hand.

"We're in London, we might as well go see a play," Alek smiles, putting the tickets into her hands.

"_Twelfth Night_?" she asks, frowning.

"It's a about a woman who disguises herself as a soldier… And falls in love with a duke."

"Who is too busy wooing another woman to notice."

"Well, her disguise _was_ very good."

"Good enough for another woman to fall for her," chuckled Deryn.

"Have you seen the play before?" asked Alek with mock concern.

"Oh better than that. I've _lived_ it."

* * *

><p><strong>I've been so busy trying to finish my <em>Orteig Prize, <em>that I've kind of forgotten about my string of drabbles_. _And now that I'm finished with _Orteig_, I've found that I have writers' block. So I am soliciting prompts from you amazing people! Please leave me some prompts, and some reviews! :D**

**Disclaimer: Although I love these characters to death, I am not Scott Westerfeld.**


	11. Corsets

_Well this is different_

Alek felt guilty, because that's the only thing he could think about. Just how different it was, hidden in an out-of-the-way closet with Deryn, kissing ferociously with one ear cocked, listening for anyone who might intrude.

Well, that was all the same. They'd done it about a thousand times on the _Leviathan_, so a palace shouldn't be that different. Drag Deryn into some secluded cupboard, undo the buttons on her shirt, while she undid his, and tug the bindings around her chest in _just_ the right place so that they unraveled and fell to the ground….

But today he was fumbling with what seemed like dozens of different strings laced into her skin, and there was no way of simply unbuttoning the dress she was wearing, even as his hands were feeling around her back.

And now his finger was stuck.

"What's the matter, can't handle a corset?" teased Deryn, moving so that his finger was released.

"Why in god's name are you wearing a corset?"

"You were the one who begged me to wear a dress to this state ball to impress you granduncle! Corsets come with dresses, you ninny!"

"But you don't _need_ a corset! It just makes everything so much more difficult!"

"Difficult! I can hardly breathe!"

Alek eyed Deryn up and down. Her blue silk dress, which exactly matched her eyes, was fashionably tight around the waist. Much tighter than looked comfortable, now that he really looked at it.

He sighed, and played with the strings of the corset, having given up hope to get the thing undone at the moment.

"Well then, _meine Liebe_, I guess we'd better retire early. In the um… interest of your respiratory problems."

Deryn smiled deviously. "I can always faint on Princess Coburg, if you want to make it really convincing."

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><p><strong>Barking sheltered princes. <strong>

**All charcters (c) Scott Westerfeld**


	12. A Certain Sort of Style

"Did you see what she wore to her wedding?" asked Margaret, clutching the latest tabloid.

"It almost didn't even _look_ like a dress," said her friend Eliza, trying to get a look at the large spread of photographs in the magazine.

"Not like a _wedding_ dress, anyway," chimed Vicky.

"There's hardly any train," said Margaret, pointing at the simple, elegant, white dress that just barely swept out behind the bride. "She didn't even need any ladies-in-waiting to carry it. If I was marrying an emperor, I'd wear the biggest, grandest dress I could find."

The girls silently looked at the pictures in the magazine, and envied the fine lace of the bride's veil.

"Her veil is really pretty, though," sighed Vicky.

"It was her husband's mother's," said Margaret. She had, after all, read three tabloid stories on the event.

"An empress's veil!"

"Emperor Aleksander's mother was never an empress, ninny! But I guess it is an empress's veil, because he's just married Miss Sharp," corrected Eliza, proud of her own knowledge.

"Yes! Look at those jewels she's wearing!"

"It's just a platinum chain with some sort of sapphire. At least, that's what the article says. Our own Queen has fancier jewels than that."

"Anything bigger would have clashed with the dress," Vicky observed.

"And it's still fancier and bigger than anything _we'll_ ever wear."

"Who knows, maybe we'll meet rich, handsome princes. If Deryn Sharp can do it, we can! We're much prettier than she is."

"You just don't like her short hair. I think she looks radiant."

"There's no reason for her to keep her hair short. Everyone knows she's a girl now."

"Her hair matches her dress."

"And her skirts. Have you seen the skirts she wears? They come up well past the ankle! My mom is horrified whenever she sees a picture."

The three girls laughed loudly, attracting the attention of several other people on the omnibus they were riding.

"I can't imagine what she's like when she sees pictures of the Empress in trousers."

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><p><strong>Deryn Sharp as a fashion icon? I think yes. <strong>

**Characters (c) Scott Westerfeld**


	13. Paranoia

Deryn stepped timidly out of the fitting room of the tailor's shop. She had just spent over an hour making sure her suit fit correctly. She hoped she could trust the tailor, a wizened old man who hardly spoke any English, from talking to Alek while the he paid for the suit. The old man would have to be even more oblivious than Alek to _not_ notice what she'd hidden beneath the old mechanic's slops she'd found.

"You look quite dapper, Mr. Sharp," said Alek, smiling at Deryn (her heart skipped) and turning towards the tailor, who was now standing behind the shop counter where all the ties and cufflinks were kept.

"How much?" asked Alek in broken Turkish.

"Es ist zehn lira," said the man, his German better than Alek's botched attempts Turkish.

Deryn hadn't even known the man spoke German. She'd managed to get what she'd wanted mainly by pointing and demonstrating.

Deryn started to panic. What if the tailor mentioned her curious adjustments, and what was hiding them, to Alek? What would Alek do? Did the tailor think he already knew? What would Alek _say_? Or what if the old man just wanted to ruin Deryn's entire life?

She was on edge the rest of the time they were in the shop. Alek seemed to take forever to find the right coins, and Deryn could feel the eyes of the tailor peering at her through his glasses. The man looking at trousers in the corner smirked. He knew she was a girl. But how did he know? And the woman by the back door, a long veil covering most of her face, must have known too. Would she be giving Deryn that quizzical look otherwise?

"Danke," said Alek finally, handing over ten lira. He turned lightly and, ever oblivious, walked out of the shop.

Deryn followed him, stepping on his heels until she couldn't see the place anymore.

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><p><strong>I was re-reading <em>Behemot<em>h, and this is what came out. Thank goodness. I was about to write about the Doctor encountering a mass of "Dalek" shippers and getting very, very confused. :P But it's less than a week until _Doctor Who_ starts up again, and LESS THAN A MONTH until _Goliath_! I think my little fangirl heart may just explode.**

**Oh, and I'll gladly take any requests you leave! Thanks for all the reviews! _Leviathan Series (c) Scott Westerfeld._**


	14. A Lecture, of Sorts

"Do you know why you're in here?" asked Deryn. The phrase sounded incredibly stupid, especially when talking to a fifteen—year old who had been grounded for no good reason.

Sophie sighed. She was laid spread—eagle across her bed, agitated by being confined to her room for the past three hours, all for something that she'd done almost every day when the weather was nice.

"For hitting golf balls off the roof," she said, flipping over and staring straight into her mother's eyes. _Her_ green eyes were filled with indignation, and a frown had settled on her face.

"Not exactly, lassie."

"Then why am I in here?" cried Sophie, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. She was almost as tall as Deryn, and had the same, thin features, even if she did have her father's eyes and hair.

"Because shooting golf balls off the roof of Konopischt is dangerous, for one," said Deryn feebly. As if she could lecture her daughter about avoiding dangerous things.

Sophie actually snorted.

"I'll have none of that from you," said Deryn. "Even if I don't really want to reprimand you, I'm still your ma."

Sophie mumbled a "Sorry," opened her window, and leaned her head out. A spring breeze blew in, ruffling the hundreds of sketches tacked up on Sophie's walls.

"It's only because Count Volger spotted me. If you had found out by yourself, or Franzl or Ernst or Max had told you, you wouldn't mind."

"You almost hit Volger in the head!"

"I did not! I was _aiming_ for the fountain, and I _never_ miss. Although his nose would have made a much easier target."

"Sophie, please. The count says your shot barely missed him."

"Then he's lying! He was three feet from the fountain _at least_, and it's his fault for being up so barking early! It's not like I do it when there are people I could hit about."

Deryn had to agree with her daughter. Volger was always eager to point out how "unladylike" Sophie was, and playing golf on the roof was certainly, in Volger's mind, unladylike. Deryn could easily see him exaggerating the event.

"I believe you, Sophs."

Sophie smiled.

"Does this mean I can keep doing it?" she asked hopefully.

"Only when there's no company, and before anyone else is up. Is that clear?" Deryn knew it was useless to try to set any limits beyond those.

"Yes, sir!" said Sophie, saluting smartly, and grinning.

Deryn reached out and mussed her daughter's short, curly hair (another thing Volger disliked), and she suddenly wondered why a lecture had been needed.

"Right. But at least _pretend_ you're sorry when you apologize to the count."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, calculus homework may be eating up all my free time, but coming up with stories in class has been most productive. Anyway, Sophie was orginally going to be playing bagpipes on the roof, but that would wake <em>everyone<em> up. And "Franzl" is a nickname for Franz.**

**Also, I saw a man with this absolutely glorious moustache the other day. It curled over and everything, and reminded me of several _Leviathan_ characters. Please review!**


	15. Felix Austria

**WARNING! Spoilers lie beyond. **

"You _what_?" cried Volger. It was the first time Alek had ever heard his stoic fencing tutor raise his voice.

"I'm in love with Deryn Sharp," said Alek, too glad to repeat himself. The words, and what they implied, felt right.

"This rather complicates things, Your Serene Highness, although it has been quite obvious for some time," said the Wildcount, beginning to pace about the room. Alek could never keep him surprised for long.

"Really? I thought I'd rather improved at lying," said, Alek, suppressing a shudder. After keeping Deryn's secret for months, he really had become quite adept at deception. A skill he'd need for the rest of his life, if he didn't want to end up in jail for murdering the world's most famous inventor.

"To your _friends_, it has been obvious. However, I doubt you'll have much more time with her. You must part ways."

"No," said Alek firmly.

Volger looked at him, a mixture of shock, frustration, and revulsion mingled in his eyes.

"Forgive me, Aleksandar, but you cannot make the mistake your father made. You do not have the luxury of an uncontested claim to the throne. I will not let you throw away all of his work on a teenage puppy love."

Alek took offence to this. He wanted to punch Volger in the gut, or shake him until he saw things clearly.

Instead, he looked at his fencing tutor, and gripped the side of the wooden desk in their hotel room.

"When I electrocuted Tesla, I wasn't thinking about the millions of people in Berlin, or even the crew of the _Leviathan_. I didn't kill Tesla because I was concerned for them. All I thought about was Deryn, and how, if I let Tesla continue, I would never see her again. She was, she _is,_ the only thing that mattered"

Volger was silent.

"If that is teenage _puppy love_, Count, then I'd like to know what your idea of the true feeling is," said Alek, smiling in spite of himself.

Volger sighed, and rubbed his temples.

"Then, what do you plan to do?"

"Renounce my claim to the throne, and… find a job, I suppose. Wait until Deryn's finished with her adventures, and if that time never comes, share as many of those adventures as possible."

"Are you sure she returns your affections?"

"Absolutely."

Alek suddenly felt a wonderful feeling in the pit of his stomach, like his insides were twisting with excitement and breathing a sigh of relief at the same time, as he remembered that time Deryn had kissed him. If he remembered correctly, he'd be half unconscious.

He'd have to make up for that later, and Volger looked like he wanted to speak.

The Count sighed again, rather deeply, before saying part of the phrase Alek had grown up knowing as well as his own name.

"Tu, felix Austria, nube,"

* * *

><p><strong>I'm still overflowing with happiness at how everything ended, even though I finished <em>Goliath<em> two days ago. Thank you, Scott Westerfeld.**

**Leviathan Series (c) Scott Westerfeld**


	16. Shenanigans

"Shut it, Jaspert. Do you want everyone on the ship to know I'm a lass?" whispered Deryn, barely audible over the headwind on the topside of the _Minotaur_.

"No, I just don't want my sister sharing a stateroom with her barking boyfriend!" Jaspert cried as he reclipped his safety hitch.

"Blast it! It's not like we get up to anything _too_ bad. Not with the crew walking about, and that lady boffin poking her nose in all the time."

"What exactly are you doing for Dr. Barlow?"

"Something for the London Zoological Society. And you _like_ Alek!"

"That was before I found out about the… shenanigans you two get up to when my back is turned!"

"He gave up the throne of barking Austria—Hungary for me, Jas. He may be a bit thick sometimes, but he's perfectly smart and brave and…"

"Maybe, but if he tries to hold any of that over you…"said Jaspert, ignoring the far—away look in his sister's eyes.

Deryn gave him a dangerous look.

"D'you really think he'd do something like that? Honestly, he's the prude in the relationship."

"And you are?" Jaspert asked, looking nervous.

"Oh, I'm a bad influence," she said, smirking.

Jaspert considered this.

"You know you can always punch him if he does something you don't like."

Deryn only laughed at this, and gave her brother a strong shove on his shoulder.

"How's Jaspert?" asked Alek, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. Bovril was curled up on Deryn's bed, sound asleep in the quiet stateroom.

"He's under the impression that we get up to shenanigans while we're cooped up in here," Deryn smiled, making sure to lock the door loudly behind her.

Alek's ears turned a bit red, but a smile danced across his face.

"Shenanigans? I'm afraid that word is beyond my English."

"I think it has something to do with this," said Deryn, leaning down to where Alek was seated on his bed, kissing him deeply.

"Oh."

"Aye. 'Oh'."

"Doctor Barlow went to bed hours ago," breathed Alek.

"And Jaspert has the night watch topside."

"I'd say we have a couple hours to—"

"Shenanigans," said Bovril, opening one eye and purring before falling back asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I enjoy writing romantic fluff for these two. And Jaspert is fun to write as well. He recieves my nomination for Best Fictional Older Brother. I mean, he was willing to risk his own career to get Deryn in the air. <strong>

**Leviathan (c) Scott Westerfeld.**


	17. Worth It

He doesn't sleep much during lightening storms.

Even if he's in a deep sleep, the first flash of light will always jolt him awake, and suddenly he can see the huge tower, it's spire crackling with electricity. He can feel the shock of the staff he grips as it releases even more of the stuff, and the smell of burning flesh suddenly fills his nose.

He sits up in bed, his arms stretched out in front on him, and puts his head on his knees. He takes slow, beep breathes to try and get his heart to slow down. He doesn't dare close his eyes, for fear he'll see a charred, dead man; or worse, a crackling air beast, about to become a fiery death trap for a brilliant girl, turning on itself to try and escape the destruction.

The mattress shifts under him. The brilliant woman who had been lying fast asleep beside him sits up and places a calloused hand on his cheek, and a much more pleasant type of electricity suddenly goes through his entire body, calming his heart and his head.

"_Goliath_?" Deryn asks, and Alek nods.

She takes her cool, comforting hand from his cheek, and repositions herself so she can wrap her arms around him, pulling him close. He returns the embrace, his arms locking around her, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

"Do you want some tea?" she asks. It's tradition to at least ask. The next time she wakes up from falling from a burning air balloon, he'll ask the same thing.

They pick each other up.

"No, thank you, schatz," he whispers, lying back down on the bed, and turning on his side. Deryn nestles up against him.

He can close his eyes now, because they're filled with images of a beaming woman, memories spanning back nine or ten years. He clasps her hands in his own, and pulls her closer, until he can bury himself in her short blond hair, which still smells like fresh air, even if she hasn't been flying for months.

He would do it all again, if it meant a lifetime with her.

"Deryn?" he asks quietly, sure she's still awake.

"Alek?" she asks, exhaustion creeping into her lilt. He won't keep her up much longer.

"You're much better than any tea," he says, before he can stop himself. Even after ten years together, he's still often quite clumsy when telling Deryn just how much she is to him.

"Aye, I should hope so!" she says, snorting to make her point. She doesn't pull away, though. She knows what he means.

Alek chuckles, and gives Deryn a soft kiss. She smiles.

"Try and get some sleep, you daft prince."

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><p><strong>AlekDeryn is my official OTP now. I've even got my dad rooting for them (He just started "Behemoth"). Thank you for the lovely reviews! **


	18. A Letter Home

4 October, 1940

Dear Da, Ma, Felix, Malcolm, and Max,

Vienna is very political these days, especially with the election coming up. All my friends are dragging me to their various party meetings, which is all quite fascinating and fun to observe. Angela (my friend from Munich: she can't vote either) and I went to a conservative rally, just for a laugh, and there were more than a couple people there who we dead-set on "restoring the House of Hapsburg."

That, of course, made me snigger, especially when the speakers expounded on the various royals who would be more than willing to continue the monarchy, including you, da. I _almost_ asked _how_ they knew you were so willing to take up the Crown, since none of them had seen head nor tail of you in almost thirty years. But I didn't. I'm doing a very good job of keeping who I really am a secret. Only a couple people know now. Not that it matters, anyway. Once people got over the sensationalism of it, everything would go back to normal. After all, there are several of my… second cousins? Here at the University.

My classes are going really well. My electrikal engineering paper received top marks, and my mechankics professor thinks my designs for a new aeroplane are "ingenious." She recommends I take out a patent as soon as possible. I'll show you all the blueprints when I come home for Christmas.

Felix, you can wait another four years to join the air service. Eighteen is the minimum age you can join as a middy (as ma has probably told you a million times), so just be patient. You'll have your own adventures soon enough.

And Max, if you ask me one more time if I've met a "bonny lad", I can make no promises about your personal safety when I get home. Honestly, you're worse than Gran.

Malcolm, don't put up with Max's antics. You can sleep in my bedroom until I get back, if he's really bothering you that much. Just make sure you wash the sheets. God knows that you attract dirt and beastie mess like flies to honey.

Ma, I'm sending some sketches I've done recently. Two are the front façade of the main university building, and the other is of my friend Karl. I've been having trouble with sketching anything organic lately: I'm too used to making blueprints and schematics!

I have to go get the engine grease out from under my fingernails (I think I've smudged the paper a couple times). I'm having tea with his Irritable Countship, and showing up with dirty fingernails _and_ wearing trousers might just give him a stroke.

Lots of Love,

Blair

P.S.

Da, the most recent picture they had of you at that rally was one from Istanbul, back when you were even younger than me! It's a shame I inherited your ears, though. They really are too big for our heads.

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><p><strong>I've been inspired by all the AlekDeryn children that have turned up recently. I've written about Blair before, when she was much younger and waving wooden swords about. She's really quite adorable. Thank you for all the reviews! They're wonderful to read at the end of my crazy days. **

**Leviathan Series (c) Scott Westerfeld.**


	19. Wingman

It's barking hilarious, watching Alek.

He's backed up against the far wall of the ballroom, a semicircle of girls mooning over him pathetically, swinging their dance cards conspicuously on their wrists for Alek to see.

And Alek is doing his best to ignore them. Even so, his ears get violently red whenever a girl makes what Deryn imagines is a not-so-subtle hint. At least, that what's she's guessing. She's on the other side of the ballroom, talking with Dr. Barlow and some other boffins from the Society.

"Your friend Mr. von Honhenberg looks rather uncomfortable, Mr. Sharp," says the Doctor, looking at the growing pack of girls through the corner of her eye.

"Aye ma'am. I was just thinking I should go help him out," smiled Deryn.

"By all means, get him waltzing with one of them. It would be very poor manners for you young men to refuse at least one dance."

Deryn frowns, but excuses herself, exaggerating her limp as she walks away.

She reaches the horde of girls, and clears her throat, but no one seemed to hear her. A tall girl at the front of the pack has just dropped some sort of hint.

Alek is saved from replying (his ears have gone red again) by an ill-concealed snort from Deryn. All of the girls instantly turn around.

"Mr. Sharp!" cries Alek with relief. Poor boy. He thinks she's here to rescue him, as usual.

He practically elbows his way to where Deryn is standing, and they walk off to the other side of the ballroom, leaving the girls behind, before speaking.

"You've saved me once again," he says, smiling now.

"Not for long. Dr. Barlow wants us to dance."

The smile instantly turns into a frown.

"She honestly expects us… But we're, I mean, we're…" His ears aren't red from embarrassment anymore, but something like indignation.

"Well, what better way to throw people off than by waltzing?" she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I don't want to dance with any of those girls," he says out loud. His eyes, however, say something much more. Deryn almost feels guilty teasing him.

"I thought it was bad manners to not dance at a ball in high society."

"Well, yes, but… Do you even know how to waltz?"

"Oh, _I'm_ not dancing!"

"But you said Dr. Barlow wants us both to dance."

"I can't dance, not with my knee in such a state," she says wickedly, motioning at her exaggerated limp. "You, on the other hand, have two perfectly good knees, and ten times as many admirers."

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><p><strong>Alek is so cute when he's befuddled and embarrassed . Please review! <strong>

**All characters (c) Scott Westerfeld.**


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